The Princess Alice Disaster 1878

Pleasure Cruise to Tragedy It was an hour after sunset, 7:45 on the evening of September 3, 1878. It had been a warm humid day, and the darkness dropping over the Thames brought a sudden chill to the 900 or so happy and tired passengers on board the pleasure paddle steamer Princess Alice, as it beat upriver to London from Sheerness and Gravesend. Her captain, William Grinstead, threaded his course between strings of moored barges, steaming against a fast ebb tide, hugging the South shore, as he came up Barking Reach. In the distance he could clearly see the white masthead light of the iron- hulled, screw-driven collier Bywell Castle, coming the other way down Gallions Reach and nearing Tripcock Point where the river curved. The Bywell Castle's green starboard light became visible as they took the bend and, as the gap between the two closed, a sudden hush seemed to settle over the Princess Alice. Both vessels turned towards each other as though on a pre-arranged collision course. The massive iron bows of the collier cut straight into the paddle steamer’s mid section, just in front of the starboard paddle box. The stern rose as the vessel folded in the middle, pulled down by the sheer weight of her boilers. Screaming with fear, those passengers who could reach the decks spilled into the oily water. The river became black with a coating of people treading on each other in their desperate struggle for life. Despite a small boat operation, launching of life-boats from the Bywell Castle and the arrival of the Princess Alice’s sister ship, the Duke of Teck, only 10 minutes later, the accident claimed more than 600 lives, and left a query as to its cause that has yet to be satisfactorily answered. The Princess Alice The Princess Alice was a long (220’), slim (20’), Clyde-built wooden paddle steamer, one of 11 owned and operated by the London Steamboat Company. She weighed in at 251 tons and her draught was a mere 8’ 4”. She had been built in 1865 with two 140hp engines but carried only two lifeboats and twelve lifebuoys. When she had set off on her trip down the Thames at 10 o'clock that September morning, she was in tip-top condition. Only months before, she had been given a major refit with new boilers and overhauled engines. The summer of 1878 had been very wet, but this September day was so bright and sunny that this excursion was a sell-out, and the Princess Alice was carrying nearly 1,000 passengers, her limit under her Board of Trade Certificate for "smooth water operation". The ‘smooth water area’ was deemed to extend downriver as far as Gravesend, where the majority would disembark. 1 Pleasure Cruise to Tragedy Rosherville Gardens A major stopping point was Northfleet's Rosherville Pier, the entrance to Rosherville Gardens. This renowned 20 acre public pleasure garden operated from 1837 until 1913, although going distinctly down-market as the nineteenth century wore on. In Gilbert and Sullivan’s first full length operetta, The Sorceror, first performed 17th November 1877, ten month’s before our tragic day, the strange central character John Wellington Wells, who confesses to being a lifelong dropper of H’s and who favours eating peas with his knife, confesses to his accidental paramour, Lady Sangazure, that he often goes to Rosherville. Underlining her complete infatuation with this ridiculous creature, and probably with a sly wink at her smart upper middle class London audience, Lady S assures him that ‘That joy I’ll share!’ In 1878, the gardens contained such aesthetic delights as a bear-pit, aviary, zoo, botanical gardens, a maze, tea-rooms and many side shows. In the evenings, the area was illuminated and dances held in the banqueting hall. There was a ‘Bijou’ theatre which seated 1,000 people, and an open-air theatre where many famous variety artistes of the day appeared, and attractions such as fireworks, tightrope walkers, balloon ascents and a gypsy fortune-teller. And large quantities of shrimps and beer. Many of the Princess Alice’s passengers would have gone no further, but would have walked through the tunnel from Rosherville Pier to spend all day in the Gardens. They are now completely gone, a cleared site since 2010, having been part of W T Henley’s Cable Works for most of the twentieth century. 2 Pleasure Cruise to Tragedy The Voyage Upriver The gardens were so crowded that, at 18:10, when the Princess Alice left for her upriver trip, there was a mad scramble to catch the ferry back to London. As she sailed from Rosherville that evening, she was again packed to capacity with between 900 and 1,000 merrymakers on board - a band playing music hall favourites, children running up and down the gangways, young couples trying to dance - a perfect vision of hell! As the sun began to go down, the three running lights were lit: red on the port (left) side, green on the starboard, and white at the masthead. At the helm of the Princess Alice was a substitute sailor, John Eyres, who had taken over the wheel at Gravesend, replacing the regular helmsman who had been given the evening off by the Captain. Progress up river was completely uneventful, passengers enjoying the experience of seeing the riverside lights come on as the sun set. The SS Princess Alice steamed up Barking Reach and, approaching Tripcock Point, she met and passed the Spartan and the tug Enterprise, both on her starboard side. Shortly afterwards, the masthead lights of a steamer came in sight over the point, and were seen on the port bow. As the Princess Alice rounded Tripcock Point, the band struck up ‘Nancy Lee’. Although it was getting quite dark, one passenger, a Mr Reed, later reported that he was able to read his watch - 7:35 - aided by the flares from the Beckton gas works on the north shore. The Bywell Castle The Newcastle registered Bywell Castle was a 890 ton collier, nearly four times heavier than the Princess Alice. She had left Millwall at 6:30 that evening loaded with water ballast and was sailing with the ebb tide for her home port. Her captain and part owner was Thomas Harrison. Although he had spent many years at sea, he was unfamiliar with the Thames; and had taken the pre- caution of hiring a river pilot, Christopher Dix. His crew totalled 22. Pilot Dix had already manoeuvred the ungainly vessel down the seven miles to Gallions Reach. The ship was riding high in the water and the screw and rudder had little bite. She was running at half speed, and despite the impetus of the ebbing tide, her five and a half knots was still less than half that of the approaching Princess Alice. Captain Harrison and Pilot Dix were on the bridge of the Bywell Castle and, despite having the setting sun in their eyes, spotted the paddle steamer when she was still over half a mile away, her mast light shining over the intervening 3 Pleasure Cruise to Tragedy spit of land as the two vessels approached the bend of Trlpcock Point. The Princess Alice appeared to be coming across his bow, making for the north side of the river, seeking the slack water at Gallions Point, as they supposed. The pilot altered course accordingly, intending to pass safely astern of her. It was then that the passenger steamer suddenly changed course directly into the path of the oncoming collier. However, another way of looking at it was sketched by the Princess Alice’s acting helmsman, who deposed that it was the force of the ebb tide that had pushed her out towards the North shore as she came round Tripcock Point, and that he was in the process of turning and moving southwards to the centre of the stream to regain her bearing when the collision occurred. Whichever explanation you choose to believe, the two vessels had embarked on a collision course at such close quarters that there was nothing either of them could do to avoid the other. Sounding his siren, Captain Harrison ordered the engines of the Bywell Castle be stopped, then reversed at full speed. But the Bywell Castle carried on with the current and tide, and the bows of the collier struck the steamer just forward of the starboard paddlebox, almost cutting her in two. The Bywell Castle hesitated, then bumped into the paddle steamer again, her iron keel forcing the bows under water. S e c o n d s l a t e r , h u n d r e d s o f p a s s e n g e r s f o u n d themselves in water u p t o t h e i r n e c k , s c r e a m i n g a n d shouting in panic. As the Bywell Castle’s last order (full astern) came into effect, T h a m e s w a t e r inundated the paddler a n d w i t h i n f o u r minutes, she had sunk. Gazing down into the blackness, the crew of the Bywell Castle could hear the shrill screams of the drowning passengers. As well as launching her boats, the crew hastily threw ropes, planks, crates - anything and everything that would float - onto the gasping swimmers. Our time-conscious Mr Reed was able to grab a floating plank and, supporting his wife with his other hand, managed to hold on until they were pIcked up by a small boat.

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